Sirius decided he had never been more alone in his life. He floated in a constant state of sensory deprivation, deaf, dumb, and blind. He did not know which way was up or down, or even where he was.

His last memory before he'd fallen through the Veil to wherever he was now was rather foggy; he had been dueling Bellatrix much as they used to do in school, when Bellatrix shot a stupefy at him and pushed him through that curtain swaying in no breeze he'd felt. The last thing he had seen was the anxious faces; Harry and Moony and Tonks, all horrorstruck, and Bellatrix, gloating, triumphant.

And now he was stuck. "Lumos, lumos, LUMOS…" he whisper-shouted, shaking his wand, trying to get something, anything to happen.

Sirius considered his wand. His unique wand, given to him at three and a half. He did not remember if it was a family heirloom, like that of Regulus, or if it had come from Ollivander's. It still glowed faintly, even in the omnipresent, crushing darkness that surrounded and cocooned him. He wondered if he was doomed to stay here for all eternity, trying to get simple spells to work, to light up… to get him out.

"Expecto patronum!" he incanted, feeling the familiar rush of magic as he pictured James, Remus, Lily, Harry, Nym…

An enormous, silver werewolf that he liked to call Moony, after his friend, erupted from the end of his wand.

By the Patronus's faint luminescence, Sirius could see that he floated in crystalline manacles high above an archway in which a moth-eaten maroon velvet curtain fluttered.

"Bombarda!" he muttered at his left manacle. It shattered and quickly re-formed.

Moony circled him, snuffling. It cost Sirius barely any magic to sustain the Patronus; when he was an Auror he'd set the world record for the longest lasting spell; four hours, thirty-seven minutes, and six seconds of holding a Shield Charm, which was among the most draining of all magic, in place.

Sirius sighed. He put a good bit more power into his next spell than it was designed for.

"BOMBAAAAARDAAAAA!" He screamed, throat hoarse with emotion and magic.

The manacle disappeared. Only three more to go. Sirius put slightly less power into his next hex; he didn't want to get tired out and have to remain here any longer than necessary.

One more down, two to go. On the last one, his voice nearly faltered but he shrieked the curse like the madman the general populace thought him to be; he dropped forty feet to the ground and landed in a shivering magically exhausted heap.

Sleep would be good right about now. Oh yes, very good… he drifted off, the Patronus keeping guard on his prone form against whatever lurked in the shadows.

While he slept, his face and body rejuvenated. His cheeks filled out, his nose twisted back around from where Snivellus had broken it as a second year; whole again. His hair untangled and was sleek and shiny once more; his feet and hands, frostbit from years of bitter cold in Azkaban and barely useable anymore, repaired themselves; his skin, tattooed many times over, healed and was unbroken, unblemished, and smooth. His dark circles faded away and the calluses on his ankles from Azkaban's iron manacles faded away. His bones restored themselves. His scraggly beard vanished. His robes, where they were tattered and mended, shrank tight across the gaps and repaired themselves. Truly, once Sirius had broken the manacles on his mind, this was a good and magical place.

Still he slept. People went and came on the outside of the many times over the years; still he slept, guarded by his ever-faithful, ever-watchful Patronus. Harry and his friends matured; they fought Voldemort, Dumbledore was killed. Snape was killed. Mundungus Fletcher, Peter Pettigrew, and Rodolphus Lestrange were killed. Lucius Malfoy was murdered by his former house-elf. Voldemort was killed and Harry survived. Draco Malfoy redeemed himself and eventually married Padma Patil. Harry Potter and Ginny, the youngest Weasley, married. Ron Weasley and Luna Lovegood got married. Hermione Granger taught at Hogwarts for ten years before she was proposed to by the teacher of Defense against the Dark Arts, Remus John Lupin, whose wife Nymphadora had died, still young, in combat.

Seventeen years later, Sirius awoke. Clutching his wand, he stepped through the Veil into the Department of Mysteries, a new man.


Welcom to my little side project! Directly after I update this, I'll be updating my other current story, Reflected In Her Eyes. Sorry for the stupid title, but it was all I could think of.

Love and kisses (no, not really... :)

I found a guitar pick on the sidewalk today! Yipee!